


What You Mean to Me

by xxJillianElizabethxx



Category: Mary Poppins - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Not a Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 18:01:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17349962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxJillianElizabethxx/pseuds/xxJillianElizabethxx
Summary: "A Play? You can’t be serious!” A little Mary/Bert one-shot I wrote during a period of writers block, like 2.5 years ago, so I gave it a quick edit and figured I'd share it here!





	What You Mean to Me

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in the process of posting all my stories from ff.net here so be prepared for some... interesting writing styles coming soon from me, Jillian xx

The weather had been lousy for nearing on eternity – like any other London summer – so Bert had taken to drawing on his sofa instead, planning endless ideas for his chalk-drawings once the weather cleared up. His ears perked up at the sound of a knock on the door; he wasn't expecting anybody.

Even more unexpected was the woman that greeted him upon answering it.

“Good afternoon, Bert.” she smiles to her friend, inviting herself into the cozy flat.

Before her friend has a chance to respond, a gasp sounds behind him, “do my eyes deceive me or could it be Mary Poppins?”

Mary beams at the mention on her name and moves to embrace the older woman. “Hello, Mum. How have things been around here?”

“Oh, this and that, but how about you, my dear! My it’s been nearly a year, has it not! Have you anything to eat? Oh, never mind, I’ll make you up something straight away!”

Before Mary can protest the woman removes herself to the kitchen - not that Mary Poppins would object to the hospitality. Besides, Mrs. Alfred always had far too much energy for her own good.

“So?” Bert saunters over to Mary with a mischievous grin, sway from his heels to his toes, the sudden excitement giving him much energy as well.

"Like mother, like son," Mary thinks, laughing inwardly. She turns the smile into one of mischief.

“So what?” playing into Bert's game.

“Today’s not your usual day off. Pray tell: ‘ow did ya ever manage t’ convince your master t’ give ya the extra day off?”

Mary brings a delicate hand to her heart is mock offense, “are you implying I put the idea into his head? Honestly, Bert, what kind of person do you think me to be?”

Bert snakes his arm around her waist and boldly places a kiss on her temple, “a quite lovely one.”

Mary looks up to him, only to roll her eyes a take a step away. “Must I explain everything to you? You should know by now that that's not like me."

Bert laughs in response, “that's just wi' your charges?”

Mary can’t help smiling a bit more at his comment, “well you certainly act more childish than they do.”

Fair enough.

“Well, could it have anything to do with our friendaversary?”

“And where did you hear that word?” the girl laughs.

“Made it up!” Bert boasts back, straightening his nonexistent bowtie, “but that doesn’t make it any less true – we've known each other exactly 6 years, today.”

Mary takes her friend's rough hands in her gloved ones, "that we did, so we should celebrate."

“Especially since the parents were taking their children on an outing today," she adds as an afterthought.

Bert knows what that means, but he tries not to think about it, preferring to enjoy the present moment he gets to spend with his dearest friend.

Instead he continues, “so, ‘ave you anythin’ in mind?”

The nanny’s eyes light up at the question, "I was thinking we could go to the theatre – let's see a play!"

“A play? You can’t be serious!” Bert replies, genuinely shocked by the suggestion.

“I am!” Mary chides. “I was in Kensington Gardens with my charges the other day and met a couple of boys there. Their nurse told me they are friends of J.M. Barrie.”

“The playwright?” Bert interrupts.

“Yes, do keep up," brushing him off.

"Mary, that's the Nurse of the Davies boys, she told me he started writing his play Peter Pan in that very park as a way to entertain the boys. It opened last winter and I figured now was as a good a time as ever to see it.”

“Oh, yea. I’ve ‘eard ‘bout it.” Bert comments, pondering on her suggestion, not wanting to show how excited he truly was, enjoying the energy Mary is exuding, “that’s about the boy who doesn’t grow up, right?”

“Precisely. You’ll like it - you two have much in common.” Mary remarks, earning her a hurt expression from Bert before he cracks into his signature lopsided grin.

“Very funny, Miss Poppins.”

“Really though, Bert. We should go! Get dressed - you have to look nice.” Mary addresses her friend, slipping into the no-nonsense tone she uses with her children.

“And you’re going like that.” Bert mockingly criticizes.

Mary rolls her eyes, a common reaction to her friend’s constant nonsensical comments. “Of course not. I have a dress in my bag. Now, hurry along.”

“Don’t we ‘ave to get tickets?” Bert asks, reluctantly walking to his room to change.

If he hadn’t been, he would have noticed Mary look down to her sensible shoes before sheepishly calling back, “I may or may not have already bought them.”

However, she reassumes her practically perfect posture as Bert’s comforting voice answers back, “that’s my girl.”

…

“Ya know, Mar. I’m so happy we did this.” Bert smiles down to his friend as he escorts her from the theatre.

“As am I!” She gleefully responds. “Oh, I do hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.”

“It was extraordinary!” Bert replies. “They had actors flying across the stage. And I have to admit, I almost cried when Peter said that little fairy was going to die.”

“No surprise on that score. You can be so sensitive sometimes.” Mary laughs. “It truly was spectacular.”

“‘Ey, Mar, ‘ow does it feel t’ know ya could be replaced by a dog?” Bert teases.

“Please, Bert. The Darlings need me as much as any other family I’ve been with.” Mary answers with an air of arrogance. Nothing, human or otherwise, can replace Mary Poppins!

“Now, may I escort you home, Miss Poppins.”

“If by home, you mean your flat, of course, Mr. Alfred.” Mary replies, a little embarrassed.

Bert’s heart leaps at her comment, but tries to best to hide it, “are you not due back to your charges?”

He already knows the answer.

Mary looks straight into Bert's adoring brown eyes. Despite the warm summer air, he feels cold. But it's a welcoming cold, not of fear, but of respect.

"Would I stay out this late with a man if I was.” 

The pair continues their walk without another word, choosing instead to enjoy the silence and company of each other. At the top of the stairs, Bert reaches for his keys, but is stopped by Mary’s hand gently grabbing his wrist.

“Wait.” She apprehensively says, letting her hand slip into his.

Bert removes his hand from hers not a moment later. Mary looks to the floor to hide the color growing in her cheeks from embarrassment. Seeing this, Bert places one hand firmly on her waist and the other under her chin to tilt her head up to. He looks into her eyes and Mary all but melts into his touch. The two stay frozen like that for a few seconds before Mary timidly leans up, Bert meeting her lips halfway.

“I’m sorry.” Bert reluctantly says, pulling away.

“Don’t be.” Mary soothes him, keeping her arms twined around his neck. “Let’s go inside, shall we?”

“Er, yeah.” Bert opens the door for Mary and they walk inside, awkwardly avoiding eye contact.

Mary speaks to Bert, still avoiding his gaze. “So, I guess I’ll sleep on the sofa tonight, then.”

Bert refuses to meet her eyes as well. “I think ya know exactly what I’m gonna say to that.”

“No, you’re right - I’ll take your bed.” Mary sighs. “I mean, unless you want to…”

Bert takes her hand, finally looking right back at her, "that's not like the respectable Mary Poppins I know."

She blushes, "I trust you. You're such an amazing friend."

Bert inwardly winces at her emphasis on the word. Nonetheless, he nods his head; he would never dare treat Mary in an improprietous manner.

Once the two are set for bed, lights out, cuddled up under the sheets, Bert turns to Mary with a question he’s been itching to ask all night. “So, ‘ow long ‘til ya leave London?”

Mary lets out a light breath, not wanting to admit aloud, “I must be on my way no later than tomorrow morning.”

Bert holds her even tighter, “an’ I already can’t wait for ya return.”

Mary nuzzles further into his grasp. “You’re always with me when I’m away, you know that.”

“Yes I do.” Bert places a few gentle kisses in her hair. “Just go to sleep love.”

Mary holds tighter to him. “But the sooner I sleep, the sooner it will be morning.”

“Well.” Bert practically breathes. “Maybe not right now, but when we’re apart that’s all ya need do t’ find me.”

"Hm, cheeky," she mumbles, evening her breath to try to fall asleep, despite her rapidly beating heart.

A silence passes without a word. Both thinks the other has fallen asleep. But Bert realises neither has.

“Mary?”

“Hm?”

He places one last kiss on her head. “You know that place between sleep and awake, that place where you still remember dreaming? That’s where I’ll always love you. That’s where I’ll be waiting.”


End file.
